


Flash Back

by bluelightlion



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blood and Violence, But It's A (Somewhat) Happy End, F/M, Families of Choice, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Keith (Voltron), I swear, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Post-Season 4, Things are angsty, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, just trust me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-02-07 18:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluelightlion/pseuds/bluelightlion
Summary: The last attack on the Galra forces was a success. Voltron and the Coalition succeeded in wiping out a third of the Galra Empire. But they only escaped due to the help of a certain Galra prince.Tensions are high, with decisions of trust being weighed on all the team’s minds. How could they possibly trust the Crown Prince of the Empire they’re trying to destroy? The decision isn’t easy, but when a mysterious stranger confronts them, everything changes.Especially when she tells them she’s from the future. The future that they’re fighting so hard to prevent. One where the Galra win.On top of all this, Lance is worried about a certain hotheaded former red paladin as well as his own increasingly less important part on team Voltron, and Keith is struggling to find his place in the universe, let alone on the team he wishes he was still a part of.Could this new stranger be the key that fixes all their problems? Or will the increasing number of hidden secrets be the downfall of the team, and the universe?





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! This is my first Voltron fanfic, and I'm really trying to tie everything in that I think should happen in season five/onwards in the show. Honestly this is just my personal headcanons mixed up into a story, but I hope y'all enjoy! I've worked hard on it, and hope to continue working hard on it :)
> 
> I was originally going to write this on my Wattpad account, but decided to do it here instead :)
> 
> Anyway, go ahead and read!

Sonoa lived a pretty normal life, all things considered. She had a big family who loved her, she worked hard doing things she liked, and had a home that she always came back to at the end of each day. She trained with her parents and her many aunts and uncles in a variety of ways: physical, mental, technical. She loved teasing her youngest uncle about his almost-girlfriend, and then gossiping with him and her older aunt about the slightest things their family did. She loved watching the same aunt and her husband choosing colours for the new babies’ room, his hand always hovering protectively over her swollen stomach even though his wife was significantly stronger than him. She loved reading stories and legends about different planets and cultures with her Gruncle, who would always put on the most ridiculous voices whenever he read aloud to her, no matter how old she was. She loved helping her younger aunt and her brother fix things around the Castle or with their systems, or getting a breakthrough in finding their father. And she loved visiting her grandparents and other relatives whenever they could.

 

            But most of all, Sonoa loved her parents. She loved when she was little and they would lay in bed with her, her Papa telling her countless stories about anything and everything while her Dad would run his hands through her hair soothingly until she fell asleep. She loved movie nights with them; bickering over the intelligence, or lack there of, of the characters while making offhand comments and eating snacks until one or all of them fell asleep. She loved dancing with her Papa in the kitchen while they cooked, learning the smooth, multilingual lyrics to his fast paced songs and his slower ones, learning how to dance with him. She loved the determined fire that her Dad held in his eyes whenever he was brought a challenge (most of the time by Papa), and the unofficial family competitions that always ensued. She loved that people would point out different aspects of herself that were like her parents, like her excited rambling or her stubbornness, and when they would point out things that were all her, like her love of all things art, and the proud, loving gleam that would come over her parents faces every time.

 

            Sonoa loved her life.

 

            Which is why she never expected it to change so suddenly.

 

            As the pink and white lights flash around her, the acrid scent of burning metal and flesh gradually, _finally_ , left her nose. Her stomach drops as her mind over floods with thought after thought. Invasive question after invasive question.

 

            What if she never saw her family again? She would never see what her new cousins were going to look like when they were born, or even hold them. She’ll never see what good parents her aunt and uncle would be to the twins, never see them holding their tiny babies. She would never see her youngest uncle finally ask out the woman he’s been so madly in love with for as long as Sonoa can remember. She’ll never see her other aunt and uncle find their father. She…

 

            She would never get to tell her parents how thankful she was for them; how much she loved them.

 

            The light around her dims, the image of an achingly familiar room coming into sight. Alarmed voices greet her ears, just barely familiar in their slight differences.

 

            Sonoa takes a breath slowly, her shoulders shaking as the remnants of tears slide down her face.

 

            Her thoughts finally settled on the last person she had seen before stepping through the portal.

 

            “You are our only hope, Sonny” her Gruncle had told her, as the clashing sounds of battle rung from behind the bridge’s sealed door. He had been holding her face in his hands like he had used to do when she was a child. He was crying, but he had smiled at her anyway, his mustache quirking up at the ends like always. “Do what we could not. Save the universe, my girl.”

 

            And then the doors had blown open in a fiery blast, and Sonoa helplessly watched as her Gruncle shoved her through the closing portal and got gunned down by rebel Galra fighters.

 

            The light had enveloped her screams along with her body.

 

            It had merely been a few tics, or seconds, as her parents preferred. She can still feel the ache of the losses in her chest. But she has a job to do.

 

Sonoa brings her shoulders back, holding her head high like she had seen her parents do. It was a mask; she knew that. Her parents had been the best on the team when it came to wearing masks. They hadn’t done it as often lately; they had had no reason to.

 

She almost laughs at the irony.

 

Almost.

 

They were her reason for a mask now. Where she was going, they couldn’t know who she was. That could mess up everything. And if she succeeded…

 

Then they would all live. Her family would be ok.

 

Sonoa clenches her teeth, not even flinching when she feels them grind and cut into her lower lip.

 

She would succeed, not only for the universe, but for her family.

 

For Voltron.

 

 

 

As if it had been waiting for that one determined thought, the portal suddenly shoves Sonoa forward and she falls onto the hard ground. In a flash of brilliant white light, it was suddenly gone.

 

There to replace it is this new sharp pain in her side. Sonoa gasps at the sudden unconscious movement of her head to look at the affected area, only to see the fading purple glow of a Galra energy bullet leaving the fabric of her shirt. The sight of her own wounded flesh and spilling blood made her mind rush.

 

A stray bullet must have come through the portal with her, just grazing her waist when they were both forced forward.

 

Sonoa quickly presses a hand to the charred red flesh, anxious to stop the bleeding. She tries to move to determine her location, mind already going foggy from loss of blood. She scowls when all she can manage is a weak lifting of her head.

 

But all at once the pain was worth it as she was met with wide blue eyes from across the room.

 

It worked.

 

She wants to say so many things. Too many things.

 

 

_I love you._

_I miss you._

_I’m sorry._

_I’m scared._

_I just want you back._

 

 

But she can’t. It would jeopardize the mission.

 

Her family.

 

So instead she reaches her hand towards him and says only two words to the boy with the haunting blue eyes.

 

“Help me.”

 

And then she blacks out.

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

Lance didn’t know what to think. Here he was, in the bridge, still fully clad in his paladin armour, slumped in his seat (the _blue_ paladin chair, thank you very much! He was _not_ going to leave Blue even more than he already has), becoming more and more agitated over the fact that _they were arguing over the idea of letting Lotor on board the Castle of Lions._

 

 _Lotor_. The prince of fuckwads himself. Prince Lotion the Greasy Weasel TM. The guy who had manipulated them and toyed with them for _months_. The guy who has tried to kill them as a _hobby_. The guy who felt _no remorse_ whenever he turned _whole civilizations_ into his _personal slaves_. The guy who was currently the ruler of the _entire empire they were fighting to protect the universe against_.

 

So _sorry_ if Lance was a _little_ against letting him onto their home turf!!

 

The Castle was their base; their _home_. Like _hell_ Lance would let Pricey Linguini just meander on through here.

 

Plus it probably didn’t help that Lance was still frazzled and a little angry from the situation they just escaped from, _barely_.

 

Nothing seemed to go right for them, did it?

 

Naxcela had been a mountain they weren’t prepared to climb. Literally.

 

Sure, everything had been going perfectly before that. Keith and the Blade had secured an outpost, Matt and the rebels doing the same. Even when those teams lost power and there was a lone Galra cruiser heading their way, Voltron had succeeded in destroying the last of Naxcela’s heavy artillery and capturing the planet. Things were going their way.

 

But then the towers started rising from the planet’s crust, and the first seeds of doubt had grown in Lance’s mind.

 

He had urged the team to leave the planet, but with one quick word from Shiro, Lance’s suggestion of concern was dismissed.

 

As it turned out, the planet had been a giant bomb, and if it set off, Voltron, the Blade of Marmora and the rebels would be Galra history. Thankfully, Allura managed to counteract the magic affecting the increased gravity on Voltron, and they escaped the planet, but without enough time to move a safe distance they were still in danger. Everyone was. They had to stop Zarkon’s witch who was presumably in the lone Galra cruiser a few miles off.

 

And as communications were _finally_ reestablished, Lance allowed a wave of relief to wash over him when Keith’s voice had come over the comms, reassuring them that he and the rebels were taking care of it. Then the impulsive smallest Blade had dropped the line, to assumedly focus on the fight. Lance’s mind had strayed to the worst possible scenario before he could stop himself, even as they fled as fast as they could away from the ticking time-bomb planet.

 

What if they didn’t make it? What if this was the last thing Voltron did; running away from something they couldn’t defeat?

 

What if the Galra won? Who would fight for the universe? Would there even be anything left to fight for?

 

What if he would never get to see his family again?

 

These thoughts were familiar; nothing new. Lance thought of them on an almost daily basis. But coupled with the fear he now felt, for himself, for the universe, for the new family he had built up here in the stars, they had hit hard.

 

He hadn’t dared shut his eyes, but as he looked through Red’s eyes, watching the millions, _billions_ , of stars pass by while they raced through space, he had sent a silent, desperate, pleading prayer up to every higher being he could think of, wishing against all hope that they could get out of here alive.

 

Lance wasn’t an idiot, he knew their chances were next to nothing. He just wished they had more time. He wished _he_ had more time. To do what? He honestly didn’t have a clue. He just knew he wanted to do _more_.

 

He had to be meant to do more, right? They all did.

 

And then suddenly, Coran’s voice had cheerfully interrupted his thoughts. He told them that Naxcela had been deactivated, and once again Lance’s body and mind had relaxed; more so when Keith had answered Shiro’s congratulations. But it only lasted a second.

 

Keith had told them that it hadn’t been him and the rebels to stop the ship, but Lotor. As if he was waiting for a grand entrance, Lotor chose that exact moment to hail to none other than Voltron, asking to talk.

 

They had wasted no time booking it back to the castle, and that brought them to the unnecessary scenario Lance currently found himself in.

 

He slumps further into his seat, crossing his arms as he glares at the ground. He honestly didn’t trust himself to speak right now, he was that mad. He grit his teeth uncomfortably as his attention drifted back over to the current conversation.

 

“ _Why_ should we trust him? He’s done nothing but make our lives _miserable_ and _destroy civilizations_!!” Pidge yells, throwing her arms in the arm to emphasize her (very true, Lance notes) words.

 

“We shouldn’t. He’s a… he’s a….. well, he’s a word I refuse to say.” Hunk crosses his arms while everyone save for Pidge stares at him with wide eyes. Lance had heard Hunk swear before, that didn’t surprise him, but there were certain words and phrases that Hunk outright refused to say. Pidge hums in agreement, face entirely deadpan while she seems to consider the yellow paladin’s words.

 

“A bitch? An asshole? A motherfucker? A complete and utter dick?” she offers, and the compiled looks of shock from the older team members move quickly to the green paladin.

 

“Katie! Language!” Shiro scolds, looking completely and utterly offended by her new choice of words. Pidge simply shrugs, and Shiro splutters as Hunk seems to think over her words, and Lance almost laughs. Almost. But he’s too angry. So instead he purses his lips into a thin line.

 

“Sure, lets go with those,” Hunk shrugs.

 

“ _Hunk_ ,” Shiro hisses, as if surprised the larger teen had agreed with her. Hunk merely joins Pidge in the Shrug SquadTM. Shiro huffs, and Lance could see the berating look slide onto his face, signaling he was about to give them a hearty scolding, when Allura jumps in, firmly placing a strong hand on his arm. Shiro’s shoulders immediately fall, relaxing as he always does in Allura’s presence. Lance lets his eyes get drawn to the armour-clad woman in front of them all.

 

Her hair is loose around her shoulders, curling heavily on her back, the light from the bridge making her white hair look like a silver halo. It was easily the longest hair Lance had ever seen on a woman (how did she even fit it in her helmet???); even longer than his Mama’s and his sister Gabriella’s….

 

Lance bit the inside of his cheek. Now was not the time.

 

“I have to agree with Pidge and Hunk, Shiro,” Allura spoke up, and Lance can see the barely contained anger in her eyes. Her and Coran were having the worst time with this, anyone could see that. Coran had even left the room as soon as the subject was brought up. And honestly? Lance couldn’t blame them at all. This was the son of the empire that had destroyed their entire race, family, and planet. Why, in their right mind, would they _possibly_ give him a chance to do that again?

 

Shiro seems to be having the same exact thoughts, and his face becomes sympathetic and understanding. He sighs.

 

“I’m not saying we should trust him, if anything I think we should be more wary,” he says, and exclamations of agreement are made from the other paladins. “What I _am_ saying,” Shiro continues, and Lance groans inwardly from his slumped position, “is that Lotor could have information about the Galra Empire that the Blades themselves don’t even know. He could slip up and tell us at any time if we play it safe.”

 

“But _why_ is he wanting to talk?” Pidge exclaims, crossing her arms. Lance had been the only one to sit down, and from where Pidge was standing beside Hunk he could clearly see her tapping her foot anxiously.

 

“That’s one of the things we can figure out when we talk to him.”

 

Lance frowns at Shiro’s words. ‘When’. Not ‘if’. Did he think the issue was already solved? Because that was far from the truth. Lance was still extremely upset, and he knew that everyone else was too, but as he looked on he saw the slight shift in everyone else’s demeanor. It was as if at Shiro’s words, everyone’s minds were suddenly changed. It was exactly like back on Nacxela. Lance’s jaw drops in shock.

 

He can’t believe it. But right before his eyes, everyone relaxes, as if resigning themselves to the idea. It was like no one was even going to go against what Shiro said.

 

Of course, Lance could understand that. He had done that himself in the past. But that was before Shiro had disappeared and they were left to their own devices. They were forced to shift through every possibility as if it was new, adapt to every little change and second-guess themselves, all because Shiro wasn’t there to lead them. As much as Coran could help and was a great guy, he could be a bit… eccentric. And Allura was just as forced into her position as the paladins themselves had been; they were all teenagers, they weren’t prepared to make the decisions they had to. Granted, Shiro hadn’t either, he had been just was equally thrust into his role as any of them, but he had been the oldest of them, save for Coran, and he had taken on the responsibility of being the leader.

 

They had had to adapt to him being gone. And now, with him being back, it was as if everyone was slipping back into the old routine.

 

Well, almost everyone.

 

“What do you mean, ‘when’? We haven’t said he can come on board.” Lance’s voice is loud, harsh, and curt when it comes out, almost like venom, but he finds that he doesn’t really care, even when everyone turns to him in surprise at his first inclusion in the debate. Lance sits up abruptly, gesturing his frustration as he stares at Shiro with hard eyes. “You’re acting like it’s already been decided, and it hasn’t. That’s just what _you_ want to happen; no one else. This is supposed to be a _team_ , we make decisions _together_ , not just listen blindly to _one_ of us.” He moves his gaze to the rest of the team. “I thought we had all learned that when Shiro disappeared, but apparently not.”

 

They cringe under his gaze, moving their lines of sight away as if they can’t bear to look him in the eyes after his outburst. Shiro, however, continues to meet Lance’s gaze, his entire demeanor shifting to a hard, defensive stance. He narrows his eyes at Lance. If anyone had asked Lance to describe Shiro’s expression in that moment, he would’ve only said it was ‘suspicion’.

 

Lance grits his teeth in anger. Shiro had no right to be suspicious of him. Lance had every possible excuse to be pissed; this went against everything Voltron stood for. Lance is just about to spit something back to him (what he’s going to say, he has no idea), when Shiro shakes his head, a guilty look coming over his face. He lets out a deep breath and turns to Lance.

 

“You’re right, I’m sorry Lance. I don’t know what got into me.”

 

Now it’s Lance’s turn to be surprised. Shiro had never apologized to him for anything; he’s never had to.

 

He had been Lance’s hero; he was a big part about why he had chosen to go to the Galaxy Garrison and become a pilot rather than going to a regular high school like his siblings had. Seeing this young Japanese-American on the TV one day, with the headlines scrolling underneath his picture showcasing him as the youngest graduate of the pilot program at the Galaxy Garrison, and now youngest instructor at the school. It had put a new dream in a young Cuban boy’s mind, who had never seriously thought that he could reach the stars he looked at every night. But, maybe, just maybe, this man was the answer. If he could do it, so could Lance, right?

 

Meeting him had felt like a dream come true, and then getting to know him was something Young Lance would never have dreamed of. And now, he could honestly call Shiro a friend. Granted, he wasn’t as close to Shiro as he was Hunk, Pidge, or even Keith, but that didn’t change the fact that he still considered his former hero a friend.

 

How did that phrase go again? ‘Never meet your heroes’?

 

Lance can feel all his anger suddenly draining away, as if his one outburst was enough to exhaust him. And honestly? He wasn’t surprised. He had been on an emotional rollercoaster today, and it hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours.

 

Lance slumps back into his seat, his armour clanking noisily on the metal.

 

“Right, yeah,” is all he says. And with that, the argument continues as if Lance’s outburst hadn’t even happened. Lance tunes out most of it (he already knew how it was going to turn out anyway, so what was the point?), standing up to retreat back to his room when the meeting is deemed over. Sure enough, they’ve decided they’re going to let Lotor on board.

 

Literally nothing about this could go right. But nobody cared about what Lance thought anyway, so it didn’t matter. Right?

 

Slipping through his door, he leans heavily against it when it slides shut. Lance lets out a deep sigh. His brain quickly went to work repeating the conversation that happened on the bridge, over, and over, and over again.

 

Something just…. didn’t feel right, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. He went through this train of thought nearly everyday now, ever since Keith had left to become a part of the Blade of Marmora.

 

He shook his head. No, that wasn’t true. If he was being completely honest, Lance had felt it since Shiro came back, but he had ignored it. Everyone else seemed fine, so there was nothing to worry about, right? He was probably just overthinking things again. So he had brushed it off.

 

But now?

 

It was as if that feeling was the only constant in Lance’s life, other than going head to head with the Galra everyday. A constant feeling of dread; a weight on his mind.

 

Lance sighs, his breathing coming out shaky. He can feel his body start to shake with unused energy, and he had no idea if it came from his anger or his anxiety over this unknown _thing_.

 

Nevertheless, Lance starts pacing the short length of his room, hoping his thoughts would slow, taking long, deep breaths to calm down.

 

Why was he even getting worked up? There was nothing to get upset about, not really.

 

Except maybe Lotor.

 

A sour taste fills Lance’s mouth at the thought of the alien prince.

 

Sure he had _maybe_ saved them, but not out of the goodness of his own heart. Lance would have to be blind to think that, and he was most definitely not.

 

Besides, Keith and the rebels would have broken through that barrier and taken down the witch anyway. That thought brings a smile to Lance’s face. It was so easy to imagine Keith breaking down the door to the room and holding his sword menacingly over the witch’s throat, eyes hard and mouth scowling.

 

Yeah, Keith would’ve saved them. So what did they have to be thankful for when it came to Lotor swooping in? How had he even known that Voltron was in danger? If anything, he was the one who probably organized the whole thing!

 

There was something that the team doesn’t know, Lance is sure of it. He doubts Lotor will tell them, at least not willingly, but maybe they could figure it out anyway. Maybe get him to slip up, like Shiro had said.

 

Lance sits heavily on his bed, the weight of the uneasy feeling growing with every passing moment. He hangs his head in his hands, staring blankly down at his feet. And that’s when everything breaks; as soon as he lets his body rest. It’s like a wave, crashing over him and sweeping him out even further, pushing him this way and that, overtaking him and pulling him under, further, and further until it’s so dark he can’t see his fingers flailing for something, _anything_ , in front of his face, and he doesn’t know which way is up, and even if he did, he didn’t have enough air or energy to make it to the surface before he drowned. So what was the point in fighting the raging current of his storming thoughts?

 

What was the point in fighting if he always drowned?

 

He can feel the telltale prickling feeling of tears behind his eyes before he can feel them building up, and suddenly they’re dropping. Lance clutches at his suddenly aching chest as he takes increasingly shuddering breaths, watching as tear after tear drips onto his armour below him, every drop echoing in his ears, somehow louder than his strangled breathing. And he doesn’t fight it.

 

They had almost died.

 

They would’ve died on Naxcela, if Keith hadn’t been able to break the barrier.

 

If Lotor hadn’t shown up.

 

Lance squeezes his eyes shut. There were too many thoughts going through his head, he couldn’t even decipher all of them. His emotions were just as tangled, and his chest, his heart he guesses, aches just trying to comprehend them.

 

Worry, that’s a given. He had been worried about everyone during their mission, and now he was anxious about what was going to happen now that Lotor was going to show up on board.

 

Fear. That one is also obvious, and Lance doesn’t want to dwell on it’s cause.

 

Anger. Lance was angry that he had been ignored _again_ , on both Naxcela and here in the Castle when they had been having their debate. But Lance also knows part of that is his fault, for not speaking up about what he thought.

 

And that leads into the next few feelings. Self pity. Self-hatred. Self doubt. Call it what you like. But Lance is familiar with these feelings. He doesn’t fit in with any group, not really. He’s the goofball, no matter how hard he tries to be something more. He puts up this charade, this self-assured, confident persona. Sometimes he feels it himself, and sometimes it really is him. But there’s always the doubt, scratching at the back of his mind incessantly, never giving up the firm grasp it has on him. Lance only barely grazes over these feelings, moving onto the next one as quickly as he can.

 

Protectiveness. Lance isn’t surprised by this. He was protective of the team; they had become a weird sort of family. Shiro was like the dad of the team, Coran the cool, yet somewhat crazy, uncle. Allura was like the big sister, and then Hunk and Pidge were the younger siblings along with Lance himself.

 

Then suddenly, Hurt. Lance didn’t even need to think about where that came from. He had thought Keith had thought of them as a family too, but apparently not. He had left as soon as he had the chance; finding something better than them.

 

Better than him.

 

Anger was back. But it quickly reverted into Hurt, and then Sadness made it’s first appearance.

 

Lance knew he hadn’t been the nicest to Keith from the moment they had rescued Shiro from that Garrison hospital. And he knew that it had started back when he had first heard about the boy a year ahead of him that was the prodigy student of Shirogane Takashi. He would scoff and brush off his talent and skill with a wave of his hand, bragging that he could beat him any day. He would point out all his flaws that he barely got to see because they didn’t have any classes together. He would pass the fabled Keith Kogane in the halls, only to scoff dramatically to gain his attention, and failing every time.

 

But Lance also knew that it had been a ploy, even when it honestly started to bug him (was he not good enough for this stupid prodigy kid?). For what? Well, to get his attention. Lance had wanted to be his friend. He wanted the top student of the Garrison, the one everyone looked up to in awe, to recognize him as something _more_ than he was. Maybe then he could break out of the role society had put him in. The goofball. The class clown. The guy no one took seriously.

 

People would start to _like_ him. He wouldn’t just be this gangly brown kid that was dumb enough that people wondered how the hell he got into the top space exploration academy in the country.

 

He knew Pidge and Hunk had been in that group too. It wasn’t until they got here, to space, that they had really bonded. And Lance was thankful for that. With them, he could let some of his walls down.

 

Not all, but some.

 

And then….

 

And then there was Keith.

 

Keith was… well, Keith was different. He had left the Garrison out of nowhere, with no warning and no explanation, and Lance never expected to see him ever again. That’s just not how life works. But suddenly, there he is, popping back into Lance’s life. But this time, he was forced to interact with him.

 

Learning Keith didn’t know who he was had hurt, Lance can’t deny that. All his efforts at the Garrison had been in vain then. So Lance had turned that hurt into anger, and he picked a fight with Keith every chance he got. He was almost proud of himself when he found he could easily get under Keith’s skin.

 

But again, it was only a ploy.

 

Lance still looked up to the talented pilot, who now wore red and white armour like he had been born for it. He fought like it was a dance, every move meaningful and with a purpose. He flew Red like it was nothing, reacting in record time to every little thing (and Lance knew that was extremely hard to do, he had been flying Red lately after all). And even though he had earned the title of being the most reckless one of them all, when he put the time into actually coming up with a plan, he always executed it perfectly. Lance admired his talent, his skill. It pushed him to try his best as well.

 

They were friends. Or at least Lance had thought they were. Their bickering had turned into a more playful, good-natured thing. It was _their_ thing. But Keith was in a bad place when Shiro had disappeared. Barely eating, never spoke to the team more than he had to, and when he wasn’t out looking for Shiro he was in the training deck. Lance doubts that he got any sleep at the time.

 

Lance wanted to help him through it, like he knew everyone else wanted to too. But no one knew quite what to do. Shiro had always been the one to comfort Keith, and now he was gone (which was the whole problem). So, Lance had let the idea sit in his head, wondering how Keith could be comforted.

 

Keith was brash, instinctive. He relied on facts more than emotion, logic over empathy. So if the team were going to do anything they’d have to use facts. So that’s what Lance had done. And it had worked.

 

And then suddenly, Keith was leading Voltron and Lance was his right hand man (literally. _What?_ ). And although Keith flew into things too fast without thinking things out more often than not, and Lance and the team would warn him not to, Lance was always there to help Keith fix his mistakes. Lance found it unusually easy to support Keith as the leader of Voltron.

 

Or maybe it wasn’t that unusual.

 

 

Or maybe he’s overthinking things. Again.

 

Lance groans into his hands. He doesn’t remember when he had stopped crying, but his eyes are dry. He wipes the remaining water off of his face, taking a deep breath. He hadn’t expected Keith to enter his thoughts and control them.

 

Although, now that he thought of it, that was just like Keith. Taking control of a situation whether he wants to or not. Lance can even easily remember some balls the team had attended as celebrations from planets they had saved from the Galra where they were given clothes to (or forced to) wear from the indigenous people. More times than one, Keith would be the last of them to arrive in the ballroom or banquet hall or whatever they were called, and Lance could hear multiple gasps fill the room. Meanwhile, Keith would act like nothing had happened, and go off to sulk in the corner somewhere. Lance would then be bugged on and off throughout the night about the red paladin.

 

_“Isn’t he beautiful?”_

 

Duh.

 

_“And he is such a skilled fighter.”_

 

Also duh.

 

_“Could you introduce me?”_

 

And at that Lance would come up with some excuse. Keith didn’t like people (kind of true), or Keith can’t talk, or he couldn’t look at beautiful women or else he would have a serious allergic reaction, or this was part of his ‘post-battle cool down’ or some bullshit like that. The girls would look a little sad, but then Lance would lay on the charm tenfold and they’d be back to giggling in no time, Keith forgotten.

 

Who gave Keith permission to have all the ladies??? Lance deserved some too, dammit.

 

The image of a sulking Keith in the corner made Lance chuckle, only to have his face fall as another pain in his chest aches.

 

Hurt. Sadness. Anger.

 

Keith had left. He’s not a part of Lance’s family anymore.

 

Self-hatred.

 

 _Liar_. He always will be, whether he thinks so himself or not.

 

Hurt.

 

But he left.

 

Lance stands up abruptly, running his hands through his hair. He can’t do this right now. He just can’t. There was too much going on. Lotor was going to come on board, he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

 

He drags his hands down his face, then squeezes his eyes shut and slaps his cheeks. The pain brings him back to reality, finally escaping from the whirlpool that is his thoughts.

 

Lotor. Focus on Lotor.

 

After quickly splashing some water on his face to remove any traces of tears and running a brush through his now unruly hair, Lance is greeted to Allura’s voice over the Castle’s intercom system. The team must have contacted Lotor while he was away, judging by her words.

 

“Paladins, please come to the docking bay at once. Prince Lotor is about to enter our perimeter. Full armour and bayards are mandatory.” Her voice was curt, stern, and determined. Lance can almost imagine her angry face, the princess keeping her composure even though all she wants to do is sock this guy in the jaw. Oh, what Lance wouldn’t give to see her do that.

 

Nevertheless, Lance takes a deep breath, checking his appearance once more in the mirror to make sure there was no indication to his breakdown. Then, thankful that during his time away from the team he decided not to change out of his armour, he makes his way through the Castle to the docking bay.

 

Like every other place on the Castle of Lions, the docking bay is a gleaming white, almost sterile in its pristine cleanliness.

 

 _Coran must be working overtime_.

 

Lance makes his way over to the older Altean gentleman, as if looking for comfort from his weird space uncle. Coran had opted to keep out of the debate earlier, moving out of the room as soon as the idea was mentioned, saying he needed to check on the engines.

 

Now though, Lance could see the fine lines around the gorgeous man’s eyes, and he realizes that Coran had gone somewhere private to break down; just like Lance had (whether he had realized it or not at the time). Lance steps closer to Coran, gently nudging their shoulders together, and Coran looks at him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Lance slowly and subtly nods, his own ghost of a not-quite-smile on his lips. Coran’s eyes soften, and he simply nods back to Lance, placing a comforting hand briefly on his shoulder. Lance’s spirit lifts a fraction from the exchange. He had always had a soft spot for Coran, and he would like to think the same applied to him from Coran’s perspective.

 

Lance’s attention shifts to the others, just as Shiro speaks up.

 

“Where’s Pidge?” he inquires. And sure enough, when Lance looks around, the youngest member of the team is missing. Allura, Hunk, and Coran join Shiro and Lance in their worried looks just as Pidge races through the doors to the docking bay.

 

“I’m here!” she shouts, and stumbles to a stop in front of them, leaning heavily on her knees as she pants, trying to catch her breath. “I’m – I’m here, I’m here.”

 

“Whoa whoa whoa, Pidgey, what’s the rush??” Lance asks, immediately stepping forward to support the unbalanced girl. She barely leans against him while she catches her breath, but gives him a grateful smile nonetheless. Lance simply raises an eyebrow at her, but a small curious smile makes it to his lips anyway. What can he say? Pidge was like the little sister Lance never had. It was hard to stay annoyed with her, even if he was just joking around.

 

“Just getting the cuffs,” she tells him with a mischievous grin, bringing up the tangle of slightly glowing chains that she had somehow hidden from his sight. Lance blinks.

 

“….…..Where were you keeping those?” he asks, and immediately shakes his head. “Nope, no, nonononono, never mind, I _don’t_ want to know.” Pidge just smirks in response. Shiro turns to Allura, an exasperated look on his face.

 

“Princess, I thought we agreed we were just going to _talk_ to him,” he says to her. Allura nods, her arms crossed and face hard. When she speaks, her voice was light and cheery, and Lance’s eyes widen as she smiles.

 

“Oh yes, we are just going to talk to him,” she agrees, and Lance knows that tone of voice. That is the tone of a woman you should _not_ mess with. Shiro seems to know this too, as his posture immediately goes ramrod straight, eyes widening in fear. “But I will be ‘damned’, as you say, before I let this _quiznaker_ onto my ship without restraints.” She smiles again, as if daring Shiro to go against what she thinks again, and Lance realizes that she isn’t as cool with this idea as she had originally let on. She was livid, just like he had been (he is still mad, but definitely not as much as Allura). “Understood?” she finishes.

 

Shiro nods, once, then twice.

 

“Understood.”

 

Hunk gulps on Lance’s other side, and Lance nods almost imperceptibly in agreement. Allura was scary when she wanted to be, that much was drastically clear.

 

Apparently, the same sentiment didn’t seem to reach Lotor when he arrived.

 

As soon as he docked his ship in the outer reaches of the bay, Lance was on edge. He could feel the same tension in Coran and Hunk beside him, and he didn’t have to imagine how Allura and Pidge were feeling. Shiro, however, Lance honestly didn’t know how he was feeling. He passes a fleeting glance to the black paladin, and he seemed to be as calm and in control of his emotions as ever, but Lance had spent enough time with him to notice the slight hardness in his jaw and almost invisible shake of his clenched fist. Lance feels his shoulders relax at the realization, his mouth parting slightly in shock before he focuses on the now-opening doors from the outer part of the docking bay. Shiro didn’t like this situation as much as any of them did. The thought was almost comforting.

 

Maybe Lance really had just been overthinking things again. He had been doing that a lot lately; it wouldn’t be _that_ unheard of. Shiro was just Shiro, like he had always been. Yeah.

 

Yeah.

 

Lance doesn’t have anymore time to think over it, because at that moment the large bay doors open, and in strolls Prickly Luigi himself.

 

This was Lance’s first good look at the Crown Prince of the Galran Empire. He was wearing his usually armour, and it flattered his figure. Purple skin, no surprise there, but the long white hair and pointed ears? And Galra didn’t usually have pupils, did they? As the prince gets closer to the group, Lance places one hand on his hip, ready to draw his bayard at a second’s notice.

 

He was taking no chances with this asshole.

 

Lotor stops just a few feet from them, a sickly sweet smile making it look like he was bearing his teeth instead. Lance resists the urge to scowl, instead opting for a glare. Lotor pays him no mind, looking only at Allura as he bows in front of her in a flourish.

 

“Princess Allura…” he trails off, looking up at her through his lashes, his hideous smile still stuck in place. “You look as if you haven’t aged a day. How lovely it is to see you again.”

 

Lance freezes, along with Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge.

 

_Again?_

 

Lance whips his head around to look at Allura, eyes wide. He was expecting her to be just as surprised as he is, but instead he sees her looking at the purple prince with disgust, a scowl etched deep in her face. Lance’s jaw drops open and he turns to Coran. He almost flinches at the dark look Coran holds in his eyes as he too stares at the prince. Lance’s attention is then drawn back to the said prince when he suddenly straightens, a smirk pulling at his lips.

 

“Oh, she didn’t tell you, did she?” he asks innocently as he finally meets the eyes of each of them. Shiro frowns, Pidge glares at him, and Hunk flinches. When Lotor’s eyes meet Lance’s gaze, his smirk seems to widen. Lance scowls at him, feeling the telltale bubble of hot anger deep in his gut.

 

He did _not_ like this guy. Not one bit.

 

“Well, I can assume why,” Lotor starts, finally looking back at the Princess as he spoke. “Ashamed to say you knew me princess? That we grew up together? That we’re friends?”

 

“You are _not_ my friend, you _scum_.” Allura seethes. Lance feels the corner of his lip turning up with a smirk.

 

_Go Allura._

 

But if Lotor was in any way intimidated by the statement, he shows no sign of it. Instead, he simply raises an eyebrow at her, his smirk still plastered on his face.

 

“Now, is that how you treat an old friend?” he inquires. Allura’s gaze sharpens even further on him, if that’s even possible (Lance has learned that with Allura, anything is possible).

 

“Pidge,” she orders, “the cuffs.”

 

Pidge nods, approaching Lotor with just as much authority as Allura and just as much contempt. Lance feels equal surges of pride and fear for the green paladin, walking up to the man who has been making their lives a living hell for the past few months like it was nothing.

 

Lotor scoffs, as if the thought of this little creature in front of him being intimidating is funny. He places his hands loosely in front of him, and he has the _arrogance_ to look _amused_. Lance has to grit his teeth to keep himself from growling in his rising anger.

 

“Is this how you always treat your guests?” Lotor asks, and Lance _wishes_ he could wipe that permanent smirk off of his smug ass face. Instead of Allura answering him, Lotor looks down in surprise when Pidge answers him instead. She snorts, smiling darkly at the alien prince towering over her as if she has the upper hand (which she totally does. Lance has been on the receiving end of that look enough times whenever he’s messed with her tech to know she isn’t joking around).

 

“Aw, that’s cute, you think you’re a guest.” Her face falls, all semblance of amusement gone from her features. “Turn around.”

 

Lotor raises an eyebrow at her, then Allura, before smirking once again and doing as he was told, placing his hands behind his back as well.

 

Lance watches as Pidge quickly snaps the alien handcuffs around Lotor’s wrists, and then snapping a similar, attached pair to his ankles, effectively making him immobile save for some slow shuffling.

 

Lotor does just that to turn back to his gracious hosts.

 

“You are too kind, Princess,” he practically sneers this time, and it’s music to Lance’s ears. Allura smirks, waving her hand to the side as if brushing off the notion.

 

“Oh no, no, I still have one more thing to do,” she says, with the ghost of a smile. “Pidge?” she says once again.

 

The green paladin, from where she had stayed beside Lotor, activates her bayard in the blink of an eye, and before anyone can make a sound, she chops off Lotor’s jet pack from the back of his armour.

 

Lotor scowls, all semblance of chivalry gone from his figure.

 

“Why thank you, Princess,” he says, scowling. Now it was Lance’s turn to smirk. That’s right, you asshole. There’s no way you’re getting out of this _that_ easily. Or, preferably, at all.

 

Allura grins at him, and Lance can see Coran chuckling silently beside him.

 

“No, the pleasure is all mine, Prince Lotor,” Allura tells him. “I assure you.” She turns to address the paladins, clasping her hands in front of her. “Now, I believe we should show the prince to his…. room.”

 

No one grabs the Galra prince. Rather, the team makes a circle around him, to even further his chances of escape. Lotor’s face is indifferent, cold, all the way to his ‘room’, as Allura had called it.

 

It was a room, in the definition of the word. It had four walls, a door, and a roof. There was even a bed set into the wall like the paladins’ own rooms. But this was a cell. The door had so many different locks on it, Lance got dizzy trying to remember them all. And there was a room directly beside it with a one way window into the cell, like those old cop shows that Lance had grown up watching had had. They could see Lotor, but he couldn’t see them. It was also soundproof, which was a blessing.

 

Because that room is where the team was now, and they were definitely very loud. Everyone’s voices mixed together as they focused in on Lotor’s first remark. The paladins’ faces showed every type of emotion Lance was feeling. Anger, betrayal, hurt, confusion. Lance found himself narrowing his eyes at the princess before he stop himself.

 

“What did he mean you _grew up together_?”

 

“Why didn’t you tell us this from the first moment he showed up?”

 

“You _lied_ to us!!”

 

“Allura, _how could you_ -”

 

“ _Enough!_ ” Coran shouts, and everyone falls silent. “This is _not_ what we need! Can’t you see Allura is _trying to explain herself?_ ”

 

Lance’s face falls, and he feels guilt pool in his gut, heavy and cold. His posture slumps and he looks down at the ground, ashamed. Allura always had a reason for what she did, and even then Lance often forgot that she was a teenager thrust into this crazy role, just like him. She was going to make mistakes; they all were. They were only kids.

 

He shouldn’t have yelled at Allura, no matter how upset or angry he was. He knows the rest of them feel the same, even if they’re all still hurt. And you know you did something wrong when Coran feels he has to step in. Especially when he’s shouting.

 

But Allura places a hand on Coran’s shoulder, smiling sadly at him until he nods and steps back, letting her take the floor. All eyes are on her as she takes a deep breath and sighs.

 

“Your reactions are completely justified,” she begins with, and Lance stares at her in shock. Coran steps forward, about to contradict her statement, but she shushes him. “No Coran, they are. I should’ve told them, and it was wrong of me not to. Just like it was wrong of me to keep Zarkon’s identity as the original paladin of the Black Lion a secret.” She takes a deep breath, clasping her hands in front of her before meeting the paladins’ eyes. “Lotor and I grew up together, ten thousand years ago.

 

“My father, King Alfor, was close friends with Emperor Zarkon and his wife Honerva, as you know. When I was about a ‘year’ or so, as you say, old, they had a son. Prince Lotor.”

 

At this, everyone’s gaze moves over to the Galra prince who resides on the other side of the window. His hair, ears, and eyes suddenly made sense to Lance. He was half Altean.

 

“At least that’s what we were told. After Zarkon was resurrected by the quintessence that failed to bring back Honerva, my father and the other paladins learned that Lotor had actually been born a few months before I had myself, but he had died due to complications. A year later, Honerva and Zarkon succeeded in bringing him back using a minimal amount of quintessence.

 

“Of course, not knowing that at the time, my parents allowed Lotor and I to meet, and we became fast friends. It wasn’t until Zarkon and Honerva had passed that his… darker side had shown itself to me. He was vile; cruel. But most of all, he was angry.”

 

Lance looks over to Allura as her voice falls. Her eyes held a sadness and anger that he could easily recognize. Betrayal.

 

“It was when Lotor started looking into the restorative properties of quintessence that I realized this was no longer the boy I had grown up with. He was corrupted by the power as much as his parents were, at it was going to take my best friend the same way it had taken my father’s.

 

“It never occurred to me that he could be alive after all these years, so when we learned of him, I thought it must’ve been a trick. It must’ve been someone pretending to be Lotor. But now…”

 

Allura looks up, meeting their gazes one by one.

 

“I am truly sorry. I should’ve told you as soon as we knew of him. I know I don’t deserve it, I’ve done this to you all once again and it isn’t fair to you, or any of us, but I hope, one day, you can forgive me.”

 

And that was all it took for Lance. He strode over to her, a sympathetic smile on his lips. He opens his arms for her.

 

The smile she gives him is the most genuine he’s ever seen, even if it’s bittersweet when mixed with the small tears in her eyes. She silently moves into his hug, arms snug around his waist. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, placing a hand in her long loose hair.

 

“Thank you,” she says softly, and he replies by running his fingers through her hair soothingly, like he had learned to do with his niece and nephew whenever they were upset. The thought makes the moment hurt, but in a good way, if that made any sense.

 

Lance feels Coran, Pidge, and Hunk join the two of them in the hug, surrounding them with warmth and comfort. Shiro’s the last one to join, speaking softly, but everyone’s quiet enough to hear his words.

 

“Just talk to us.”

 

Lance knows the words are meant for Allura, but he can’t help but feel like they were directed to him as well. And suddenly the memory of another group hug comes to the forefront of his mind, unbidden and unwanted.

 

This was not about Keith. He wasn’t even here.

 

And yet, there he was in Lance’s mind, uninvited, once again.

 

What was this guy’s _problem??_

 

Allura chuckles, bringing Lance back to reality.

 

“I promise,” she vows, and the group smiles.

 

A lilting, almost melodic blaring sound suddenly blasts through the room, making the group jump apart.

 

“What the heck is that??” Lance shouts. His hand hovers over his hip, ready to activate his bayard if needed. His eyes immediately land on Coran and Allura, who’s faces are sheet white. They look abruptly at each other before bolting for the door.

 

“Everyone, to the bridge! Now!” Allura shouts. They hesitate, gazes darting to Lotor in the other room, who is clutching his ears in annoyance and confusion at the sudden noise.

 

“But Princess, Lotor-”

 

“He’ll be fine, the door is sealed. Now, move!” she interrupts Shiro, and the paladins race through the door and down the corridors of the Castle.

 

“Allura, what does this alarm mean??” Hunk manages to shout over the loud sound. Lance nods enthusiastically from where he is sprinting alongside the princess and Pidge, equally as curious. They had never once heard this alarm sound in their many months in space, and he didn’t know if that was a bad or good thing.

 

“Is someone trying to retrieve Lotor?!” Pidge yells from Allura’s other side, and Lance’s breathing nearly stops. He hadn’t thought of that. But that was a very real possibility. He looks to Allura as they finally round the final corner to the bridge.

 

Her pursed lips and furrowed brow do nothing to sway his fears.

 

The doors to the bridge slide open and the team races into the room, but their feet stop by what they’re greeted by.

 

“Allura, what is that?” Pidge asks, her voice breathless (and Lance isn’t sure if it’s from the running they all just did or the sight that’s in front of them).

 

It was a small, pink, glowing light, no bigger than the tip of Lance’s pinky. It was hovering a few feet above the raised platform that Allura usually stood on, just, floating and glowing softly.

 

It was beautiful.

 

“Allura?” Shiro repeats. Allura stays silent, her eyes widening slightly as she takes a hesitant step toward the light.

 

“I-it’s a portal,” she finally manages to say. The team spreads out around the light, cautious. “W-well, at least it’s the beginning of one.”

 

“A portal?” Lance repeats, eyes stuck to the dancing light. His eyebrows furrow. “Like a wormhole?”

 

Allura nods.

 

“Something akin to a wormhole, yes.”

 

“Where’s it coming from?” Hunk asks from beside Lance, and Lance can almost see the gears start to turn in his best friend’s head. He turns his gaze to Allura, only to see her staring at the light, as if in disbelief. Her mouth opens and closes rapidly, as if she’s debating what to tell them. Finally, she purses her lips, seemingly making a decision. She faces the paladins behind her, meeting their gazes one by one as they look at her for answers.

 

“It’s coming from the future.”

 

You could hear a pin drop as Lance let Allura’s words echo in his ears.

 

 _The future_.

 

 

 

“Princess, perhaps you should –” Coran starts to say, but the light suddenly bursts, and Lance quickly covers his eyes from the insanely bright light now washing over the bridge. His eyes sting, and he can still see the shining light through his eyelids.

 

The light dies as soon as it started, casting the room in shadows, followed by a loud _thump_ as something hits the ground.

 

Immediately, Lance’s eyes are open.

 

He has to blink multiple times for the white dots to leave his vision and to let his eyes adjust to the Castle’s normal lighting once again. When they finally do, they widen at the new addition to the Castle of Lions.

 

Where seconds before the small pink light had been floating, a person was struggling to sit up from the floor. They have light, pale skin and long, dark blue hair, and something in a lighter shade of blue pokes from their head and back. Lance realizes with a start that it’s a fin, like a fish. They lift their head up and Lance sees that the new stranger is in fact a girl. She couldn’t have been any older than himself, at most. She has dark eyes surrounded by full lashes, and small blue scales poke through parts of her skin, and her ears and teeth are overly pointed. She’s wearing a tank top and simple jeans and boots, revealing more fins on her forearm and running down her back and through slits in her jeans, and she’s clutching her side with a clawed hand.

 

Lance looks back up to her face only to find her staring at him, her face white as a sheet. It was like she’d seen a ghost.

 

She silently reaches towards him with the hand that had been holding her side, her eyes filled with pain and sorrow. Lance’s heart aches in sympathy.

 

It was then that Lance notices the giant torn gash in her side. His eyes widen at the growing pool of blood beneath her.

 

Again, he meets the girl’s eyes. He’s shocked to find a new look in her eyes that Lance has seen and experienced only a few times before, but was so easy to identify. Heartbreak.

 

He wants to move to her, to say something, but Lance is frozen on his feet. As he watches, feeling helpless, the girl’s eyes well up with small tears. When she speaks, her voice is hoarse, but Lance can hear the remnants of a melodious voice under the surface. His own throat aches in sympathy, followed by a quick squeeze of his heart at her words.

 

“Help me.”

 

Her eyes roll upwards and the girl collapses, and Lance is no longer frozen. He races forwards before he can even think clearly, bringing the bleeding girl into his arms. He turns her face over quickly, making sure to be as gentle as he can as he checks her pulse and breathing. His own breathing stutters; she was taking shallow breaths, and her pulse was slow, barely there against his fingertips. Lance presses his hand against her side, putting pressure on her wound. He had to stop the bleeding, or at least slow it down.

 

Lance’s thoughts were racing so fast, he was so focused on helping this girl, that he didn’t notice the silence of the room around him. He looks up at the people around him, only to be met with looks of surprise and shock. He furrows his brows in confusion.

 

“She’s in trouble!” is all he says, and suddenly it’s as if a flip has been switched. Coran and Pidge run off to prep a healing pod and other medical supplies if needed, Hunk, Allura, and Shiro join Lance on the floor next to the girl, helping him check on her and try to stop the bleeding, and once Pidge runs back into the bridge, yelling that the pod is ready, Lance wastes no time or thought before carefully scooping the girl up into his arms. He keeps a steady hand pressed against her side as he sprints through the halls, followed closely by the rest of the team.

 

“Just hang on,” Lance found himself saying, as if the girl could hear him. “Hang on, ok? You’re gonna be alright, you’re gonna be just fine, just hang on for me, ok?”

 

Lance barely registers Coran when he enters the med bay, heading to the open healing pod as soon as his eyes fall on it. He gently places the girl in the pod, wincing when she makes an unconscious look of pain. The pod closes around her, and her face falls into a neutral, almost peaceful expression, and Lance lets out a deep breath.

 

_She was going to be ok._

 

_She was going to be ok._

 

Lance finds his eyes focusing on his reflection in the glass-like cover of the healing pod. His face looks drawn, his eyes wide with worry. He could feel the presence of the rest of the team behind him; he could feel their concern. But he couldn’t focus on them. He couldn’t find the energy to. All he could do was worry about the girl frozen in the pod in front of him.

 

And even as the thought repeated again and again in his mind, Lance felt the achingly familiar feeling of dread settle in his stomach.

 

He purses his lips, his eyes hardening in his reflection. The thought repeats once again in his mind, and he holds onto it.

 

She was going to be ok.

 

 


	2. The Girl From The Future

Lance isn’t sure how much time has passed since he had carried the mystery future girl into the healing pod she now resides in. A tic? A varga? A dobash? What the fuck was a dobash anyway? He had been here throughout the whole time slice; he hadn’t even left to change out of his now bloodstained armour. He can feel his shoulders and back throbbing lightly from the near-constant weight of it, and his legs complain from him forcing them to stand for so long. But he knows that if he relaxes, he’ll crash for a _long_ time.

 

And he wants to be there for this girl when she wakes up.

 

Lance’s eyes drift up to the peaceful face of the alien girl, watching her dark lashes flutter over her skin every time her eyes move under their lids, as if she was having a dream. Her side was healing well; from the small amount of it Lance could see behind the frosted glass-like cover of the pod.

 

He had passed the unknown amount of time he had stayed here by repeatedly checking her vitals, as Coran had showed him how to do, and looking her over to try and gauge her progress.

 

The wound on her side had been the main concern, but Lance had watched the muscle and skin slowly knit itself together. The process was…. well, alien, but also fascinating. It should’ve repulsed Lance, and it _was_ gross, but it was also insanely cool. He couldn’t look away. And as such, Lance finds himself taking in the girl in front of him with more attention to detail.

 

Her side will scar, he’s sure of it, but it wouldn’t be her first. Lance sees thin bunches of scars here and there over her exposed arms, slightly raised darker streaks over her pale skin. Another one cut through her right eyebrow, and yet another was drawn over the right side of her neck and collarbone. Lance’s neck aches in sympathy, as if he himself had been the receiver of the blow.

 

Lance knows from his own time in the pods that it will leave her drained, causing her to fall and stumble. He has a theory that the pods drew on the patient’s own energy to speed up the body’s healing process, although he’s never had the opportunity to ask Coran or Allura about it.

 

The girl suddenly flinches in the pod, and Lance immediately steps closer to the machine, brows furrowing in concern. The pained look only stays on her face for a split second, melting back into her neutral expression from before as soon as it disappears. But the knot of worry in Lance’s stomach doesn’t loosen.

 

His own concerned reflection looks back at him from the glass. As he stares at himself, he watches as his expression shifts to confusion, reflecting his thoughts.

 

Why is he so worried about this girl?

 

Her plea echoes in his ear, her face flashing into the one from then, eyes wide with fear and pain, tears slowly trailing down her cheeks.

 

_Help me._

 

Another face flashes in front of Lance’s eyes, and then another, and another. Lance’s eyes widen in shock.

 

_No. No no no no no._

 

He shakes his head, almost frantic, until his eyes land on blue.

 

_Blue._

 

Blue hair, blue fins, blue scales. Blue eyes behind closed, pale lids. And it was so easy to imagine brown instead of blue.

 

No, those tasteless names for the beautiful shades didn’t give them justice.

 

Chocolate instead of royal blue. Caramel highlights and umber shadows instead of the turquoise fin. Hickory and coffee irises instead of ones of navy. A golden tan instead of alien pale skin. Cinnamon freckles instead of azure and aqua scales and white scars.

 

It only takes Lance a second to realize that she reminds him of his sister, Gabriella. But that second is all it takes for his heart to swell with more emotion than he can handle, and he lets out a loud sob.

 

Now it was all he could see as his body shook. Even his eyes weren’t still, flicking this way and that over the girl’s face, imagining his sister instead of this alien girl in the pod, and his shaking increased, his sobs growing louder even as he tried to muffle them with his hands. Somehow, he was able to remain standing.

 

Memories flood his mind, unbidden but oh so welcome.

 

Her long, wavy hair that swayed with her every movement, flowing around her whenever she danced, bouncy and lively. Full lashes and lips, sharp brows that quirked along with her mouth when she was amused. Dark eyes that would spark with life whenever her children would do something especially cute.

 

Lance saw all of that in the younger girl standing in front of him in the pod.

 

He knew he was crying; Lance could feel the tears making their way down his face as his body shuddered with his sobs. He couldn’t do anything to stop them, and he honestly didn’t want to. He deserved the pain.

 

Lance had left them, left them with no warning - not even a thought for them until his first night in space when he was left alone in the unforgiving silence of his room. He had been too caught up in the adventure, the newness and excitement of the Lions and Voltron and the whole universe at his fingertips.

 

But now they were in his head everyday, following him around like ghosts. His Mamá, tía, and sister Carmen in the kitchen with Hunk in the mornings, singing songs and dancing as they attempt to cook with the yellow paladin. His Papá and his brother-in-law laughing in the lounge with his grandparents as his niece and nephew play around them, all unseen by Shiro, Allura, and Coran. Gabriella, his Mamá, and his abuela trying to scold Pidge about her bad sleeping and eating habits, always unheard. His brother trying to get Hunk to finally get the guts to ask Shay out, or the same with Shiro and Allura.

 

Lance knew it probably (definitely) wasn’t helping, that the way he was dealing with his homesickness this way wasn’t healthy; but he honestly hadn’t cared at first. And it had lessened over the amount of time they had been up here in space. It was rare now, but every now and then Lance would be struck with how his family would react to a situation the team would find themselves in.

 

When those instances had started to dwindle, Lance had panicked. What if he stopped seeing these figures that were just echoes from his mind? What if they never came back? What if…

 

What if he forgot his family?

 

Thankfully, Pidge was completely ok with lending him her notebook, the same one with the drawings and repetitive scrawled words of Voltron on the first page from all that long time ago, along with her leftover pencils that she rarely used anymore. Lance tried to draw the likeness of each of his family members, from his parents and siblings to all of his second and third cousins. He wasn’t the best artist, he knew that, and admittedly it took him most of the notebook until he was satisfied with all the pictures, but he did it. He couldn’t help the feeling of pride and relief that he had remembered everyone’s names and faces, and had managed to get them down on paper relatively well. He finished it all off by writing things he loved about each person beside them on their portrait. His Mamá’s singing, his Papá’s soft laughter. The endless inside jokes he and his siblings had. Carmen’s seemingly unconditional love and compassion and willingness to help, just because she can. His brother, Gavin’s, almost endless advice for any situation. Gabriella’ s natural motherly instincts that she has had since she was younger than Lance was now. Theo’s never ending supply of pranks, and Anna’s shy temperament coupled with her blinding smile when she was incredibly happy. His abuela’s cooking, his abuelo’s old comics that he would read to Lance with a surprisingly animated voice when he was little, and his tía’s excited voice whenever he would call her with a math problem he couldn’t solve.

 

And so it went, Lance filling the pages of the notebook, line after line, word after word. It was like a dam had opened, the words and memories flowing through his mind and pencil, marking the pages with such passion that Lance could almost believe they were permanent.

 

The pages were stuck carefully in one of the retractable drawers under his bed, and Lance longs to go back to his room at this moment to dry his tears and look over them.

 

But his eyes focus back on the vibrant blues that make up the alien girl in front of him, and immediately his heart aches with guilt.

 

Here was this young girl, no older than Lance was himself, honestly, who needed his help, and he was feeling sorry for himself instead of trying to help her. What kind of paladin of Voltron was he?

 

She wasn’t his sister. She wasn’t anyone to Lance, not really. She was another citizen of the universe who needed their help, and would flit through Lance’s life like all the others. Here, and then gone in an instant.

 

Like Keith.

 

Lance’s thoughts immediately stop.

 

He purses his lips, swallowing the lump that had somehow formed in his throat.

 

Not now.

 

Lance takes a deep breath and brings his shoulders back, hardening his jaw. He quickly wipes his tears away and once again checks the girl’s vitals. At her increasingly bettering condition, Lance allows a small smile onto his face.

 

Maybe he wasn’t doing the worst at helping her after all.

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

Pidge was the first one to join Lance in his continued observation of the newcomer to the Castle of Lions. She walked through the door, laptop in hand, only to find Lance in the same position as the team had left him the night before; standing stock still in front of the girl’s pod, eyes flitting nervously over the glass. The blood on his armour was a dark stain, and when his head turned quickly towards her at her entrance, Pidge noticed circles under his eyes dark enough to rival the gory stains.

 

Lance said nothing to her, only nodded in acknowledgement and went back to looking over the alien girl. Pidge had pursed her lips, wanting to say something to her friend, but instead opted to silently watch over him like he was with the alien in the cryopod. So she simply sat down in front of the console, opened her laptop, and got back to her work while keeping an eye on the worrisome blue paladin in front of her.

 

So that’s how they were now.

 

Lance shifts in his position, and Pidge’s eyes were immediately on her friend, her fingers stopping to hover over her laptop’s keys. If Lance notices the absence of the sound, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he just checks the girl’s vitals for what Pidge feels is the 300th time since she had gotten there. Pidge lets out a silent breath of relief.

 

She knows that Lance is worried, more so than anyone else. She also knows that Lance keeps a lot bottled up in that supposedly empty head of his.

 

Lance isn’t stupid. In fact, Pidge thinks he’s anything but. He’s an amazing strategist when he wants to be, and often when he’s not even trying at all.

 

Granted, Pidge hadn’t thought much of him, or anyone in fact, when she had first gotten into the Garrison. She had been focused solely on finding her brother and father; you couldn’t exactly blame her. But that didn’t mean she didn’t like Lance as a person. She didn’t really have time to make friends in the Garrison, and she was honestly thankful she had been grouped with Hunk and Lance. They were funny and nice, they didn’t really ask questions about her absence from a lot of things, and they even stuck up for her whenever her mouth would get ahead of her brain and almost got her in trouble. If she hadn’t been so focused about finding her family, she knows she would’ve tried to become friends with them from day one, even if she had never actually been friends with anyone except for Matt before.

 

Hunk she could easily get along with, that was apparent to anyone they met. They both loved mechanics and tech, and Hunk could appreciate her code work like no one else on the team could. He was a snoopy guy too, and Pidge and Hunk often had gossip sessions with the Princess, although Pidge had to constantly come up with different places to hide her diary after Hunk seemed to find it every week a few months back.

 

Lance had been different. Again, he wasn’t stupid. His smarts just didn’t make themselves known until you really got to know Lance, just like his true personality. Thankfully, Pidge had gotten to know both of these new sides of Lance when they had become paladins of Voltron.

 

Lance’s strengths were based in improvising and strategy. If there was a set plan, he would stick to it and play it through. If something came in the way of that, no big deal, he immediately knows something else they can do to get to the same destination. It’s as if his mind was always a step ahead of everyone else, planning for the worst in every situation, even when he doesn’t realize it.

 

Pidge was awed by it, even if she had never told anyone, not even Lance. She needed a plan she knew would work. She needed statistics and algorithms of the chance of them winning the fight. She needed to analyze; she needed to _know_ something would work before she tried it.

 

Lance didn’t. It was something that Pidge had only figured out, along with Hunk, when the three of them had been having a sleepover in the “living room”, as Lance had lovingly nicknamed the room in the center of the Castle (everyone had quickly adopted the idea of calling it that, much to Lance’s obvious delight).

 

It had been when they were still just getting over Sendak’s attack. Shiro and Keith had continued training while Lance, Hunk, and Pidge had opted to turn in for the night. Lance had proposed the idea of a sleepover, and Pidge had found herself going along with it. The three of them had gathered up all the pillows and blankets they could find, and piled them up in the middle of the circle of couches on the floor, making a comfy nest for themselves.

 

The night was spent playing classic sleepover games, after Pidge had admitted that she had never actually been to a sleepover (Lance had dramatically gasped when she had told them that, and immediately stated that this was going to be her _best sleepover_ _ever_ ). Hunk whipped up some bowls of purple chunks of food, that tasted shockingly like popcorn, in the kitchen for the three of them while Lance filled her in on the proper etiquette of a sleepover. Pidge soon learned that sleepovers really didn’t have that much etiquette to begin with anyway.

 

All the games had been fun, and the “horror” stories that Lance had told had just made Pidge laugh, more so when she had seen that Hunk seemed to actually be frightened of them.

 

As the night had progressed though, they grew tired, and Pidge soon found the three of them confiding in each other things that they all kept secret.

 

Hunk admitted that he was terrified he might not ever see his moms and siblings and the rest of his family again, and how he hated how nosey he was. Pidge herself admitted that she felt incredibly guilty about leaving her mom alone on earth, and that she was mortified by the idea of finding her brother and father dead, and even that she was worried she was doing this whole ‘friend’ thing wrong. And Lance…

 

Lance told the two of them how lost he felt. More than being lost in some unknown part of space, he didn’t know who he was, or what he should be. He told them how he didn’t want to always be the goofball. He told them how he felt he needed to put on this confident, funny persona to help others in his life.

 

He couldn’t have been talking for more than five minutes, but those words stayed with Pidge over the many months they had been in space.

 

That night had been the real start to the friendship between Hunk, Lance, and herself, and Pidge knew she wasn’t always the best friend, but she was trying. Had been trying.

 

Like right now.

 

A sudden blurry movement of blue draws her eyes, snapping Pidge out of her thoughts. She scrambles to her feet, laptop forgotten as her eyes and mouth widen in shock as the cryopod opens with a _hiss_ and Lance rushes forward to catch the falling girl. The girl’s eyes blink open wide, and she tries to steady herself on her feet, but they don’t comply and she falls against Lance’s chest with an _oof_.

 

Pidge rushes forward as Lance carefully pulls away from the alien girl, keeping his hands steady on her shoulders. The girl blinks up at him in confusion, then at Pidge.

 

Then her eyes widen almost comically, as if she had suddenly remembered something. A sad look crosses her face, and Lance and Pidge exchange a worried look.

 

“Hi there,” Lance starts gently, inclining his head towards the girl to get her attention. Her head immediately snaps towards him. Lance smiles gently before continuing, and Pidge feels a sense of pride at the kindness that still remains in her friend after all these months of war. “My name’s Lance, and this is Pidge,” Pidge nods, giving her own smile towards the girl. “Would you like to sit down?”

 

The girl opens her mouth to say something, and then seems to think better of it and silently nods.

 

Pidge and Lance gently lead her to the steps behind them, sitting all of them down slowly. The girl stays silent, staring at the floor at her feet. Lance gives Pidge a worried look, and Pidge purses her lips in return. She didn’t really know what to do in this situation either, dude. Nevertheless, she takes the initiative.

 

“Do you… Know where you are?” Pidge asks the girl. She nods, and when the two paladins remain silent, the girl finally answers.

 

“The Castle of Lions.” Her voice was sweet, not overly high or overly low and Pidge could immediately imagine this girl singing with her melodic voice. She had a nice voice, but her accent was what surprises Pidge.

 

All the aliens they had met so far had had their own accents and languages, which wasn’t surprising. There was a whole universe filled with millions – billions of planets all with their own species and cultures and traditions. It was fascinating!

 

But this girl… her voice almost sounded human. Pidge looks over the girl with more scrutiny.

 

            She was pretty, very pretty, but she had a hard edge to her that Pidge recognizes. This girl had seen tragedies, and she had had her fair share of battles. Pidge frowns. Whatever this girl’s story was, she had been through a lot.

 

            Pidge silently places a hand on the girl’s shoulder. The girl finally meets Pidge’s eyes, and she sees a sadness and hurt in them that Pidge herself has felt many times

 

            “What’s your name?” she asks the older alien girl gently. She purses her lips, once again looking to the floor and glancing at Lance before turning her head back towards Pidge. Her blue hair covers part of her left eye from her quick movements, and Pidge almost laughs at the anime-ish trait.

 

            “Sonoa.”

 

            Lance smiles gently from the girl’s, _Sonoa’s_ , other side.

 

“That’s a pretty name,” he says, and the girl smiles weakly.

 

“Thank you.”

 

It was at that moment that the door to the healing room opens with a _hiss_ , and Coran enters the room. His determined steps falter when he sees the three teens huddled together on the floor, his face shifting to one of surprise, but it quickly turns to one of easy humour. He walks closer to the three of them, wagging his finger in an almost comical manner.

 

“Now, now,” he tsks, “is that any way to be treating our new guest, paladins? She should not be sitting on the floor!” The older Altean stops directly in front of Sonoa, offering his hands to the girl. She looks up at him, a soft sad smile on her face, and Pidge tilts her head in curiousity. Her thoughts are interrupted when Coran addresses Sonoa. “Come, my dear, you must be starving!” Sonoa nods, taking Coran’s hands and hauling herself shakily to her feet. Coran immediately stands beside her, placing a steadying hand on her back while the other begins to lead her toward the door. Lance and Pidge scramble to their feet to quickly catch up to the speedy Altean and his new charge, and Pidge makes a mental note to stop underestimating Coran. The man was always full of surprises.

 

The quartette soon found themselves in the dining room, Coran’s seemingly endless chatter only briefly ceasing when he ran off to the kitchen to get Sonoa a plate of food goo to eat. She scarfs the food down with no hesitation, and Pidge narrows her eyes slightly, filing away the information.

 

There was something about this girl that just didn’t add up. Pidge was willing to give her a chance, but her sudden appearance on the ship _was_ suspicious, especially with the arrival of Lotor on the same day. It just couldn’t be a coincidence, right?

 

“Sonoa, you are a Nynphagua, correct?” Coran suddenly asks, and Pidge’s attention is once again drawn to the alien girl sitting across the table from her, who was currently on her third plate of food goo. Sonoa freezes, her spork stopping halfway to her open mouth. She drops her hand and purses her lips, and her cheeks redden slightly in a blush.

 

“Yes, I am,” she answers easily, but Pidge is unsure. Sonoa almost looks nervous about the subject. Coran, however, seems to have noticed no such thing.

 

“Fascinating! Yet you do not have their accent, how peculiar!” He twirls his mustache as if in thought, and Lance gapes at Coran in shock.

 

“Coran!” he exclaims, “You can’t just call that out, oh my God!!” Sonoa laughs from beside him, and they all look to her in surprise. Her blush had deepened, turning her pale cheeks a vibrant red.

 

“No, it’s ok,” she reassures Lance before turning back to Coran. “I wasn’t raised on Nynphagua, that’s why I don’t have the accent,” she answers easily. Coran nods in understanding.

 

“I see, interesting….” Sonoa shrugs.

 

“I guess.”

 

Pidge purses her lips. This girl is obviously sensitive about her past, that much is obvious. But who exactly is she? She seems to be nice enough, but that doesn’t mean they can trust her. They needed to know more about her in order to determine that fact.

 

Pidge is just opening her mouth to ask Sonoa more questions when the door to the dining room parts with an electronic _whirr,_ creating an entrance for three new figures to enter the room.

 

Hunk immediately smiles at the newcomer as he, Shiro, and Allura make their way over to the quartette already in the room.

 

“Hi!” he greets, and Pidge notices Sonoa tense up at the sudden new arrivals to the room. Lance notices too, evident from him placing a tentative hand on her arm in hopeful comfort. The girl’s shoulders relax a bit, and she and Lance exchange a quick, small smile. The hint of an idea starts to form in Pidge’s head, but she stays silent, instead leaning back in her chair and watching the scene unfolding before her.

 

As soon as Hunk sees Sonoa relax, he barrages her with questions and, thankfully, Sonoa doesn’t seem to mind, as if knowing, like Pidge, that he was just trying to be helpful. She smiles shyly at him the whole time.

 

“How’s the food goo? If you don’t like it, I’m sure I could whip something up in the kitchen for you – although I’ve heard that it’s just the thing after some time in the pods... Not that I would know, of course, which I’m totally grateful for, but, uh, still…” The yellow paladin finally stops for a breath, finally realizing just how much he had just rambled. His smile turns sheepish, and he awkwardly scratches at his cheek. “Uh… What’s your name?”

 

Sonoa’s shy smile turns wide and genuine. Pidge smirks. There was definitely no one better than lifting an awkward air than Hunk.

 

Well, maybe Lance. But he was already in the room, so he doesn’t count at this moment.

 

“Sonoa – my name is Sonoa,” the girl introduces herself again. She draws in a breath, straightening her back as she goes, making herself look more mature and intelligent. She gestures towards the plate in front of her. “The food goo is great, thank you for the offer though. You must be Hunk!”

 

            Pidge raises an eyebrow. Had they mentioned Hunk before? She looks quickly at Lance and Coran, who look just as thoroughly confused as she feels.

 

Sonoa must have caught on to the team’s apprehension, as an amused, if somewhat nervous, chuckle makes its way past her lips.

 

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you or anything! It’s just I remember you all from your old Voltron shows. Humorous Hunk was always a favourite of mine,” she admits with a sheepish look. Her hands gesture her words a bit when she talks, and, as if realizing it, sticks her hands into her lap. Pidge mentally adds two more points to her growing idea.

 

_If what I’m thinking is right….. This could be very interesting._

Pidge smirks to herself.

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

Lance narrows his eyes at the green paladin sitting across the table from him. Pidge had been smirking at Sonoa an awful lot, and Lance isn’t sure what to make of it. He knows he’s being weirdly protective of the alien girl, but she reminds him of his sister; of course he would be! But why is Pidge so interested in her?

 

However, Lance’s attention is drawn elsewhere when Sonoa turns to address the other two in the room who remain unnamed to her.

 

“So, that would make you two Shiro and Princess Allura, right?” she guesses with a small, hopeful smile. The two leaders of Voltron return her smile, Shiro nodding while Allura replies to the younger teen.

 

“Why yes! You seem to know of us well,” she points out. She seems to be pleased with the thought, and Lance can guess why.

 

This girl is from the future. If people there still knew about Voltron, then that could mean they win the war against the Galra! That information was invaluable, and maybe this girl could tell them how they did it.

 

But Lance can’t help still being a little wary.

 

He trusts this girl, he didn’t know why, but he did. But why would she come back in time (something that _definitely_ doesn’t happen often) just to tell them that?

 

There has to be something more.

 

Sonoa is nodding at Allura’s words, scooping another heaping serving of food goo into her mouth. Lance almost laughs at the action, but steels himself at the last moment. He casts a quick, wary glance over the rest of the people in the room, and sees the same unsure look on their faces that he feels is on his. But the others also don’t look like they’re going to speak up anytime soon; rather content to stay in the comfortable silence that now envelopes them. Lance closes his eyes, and for the second time that week prays to an unknown higher being that everything will be okay.

 

“Sonoa,” he starts, and he isn’t exactly sure what’s in his voice that makes it happen, but everyone freezes the moment Lance speaks. Sonoa herself won’t meet his eyes, her spork halting halfway to her mouth with yet another bite of food goo ready and waiting. Nonetheless, with every member of his team watching him – _almost_ every member, his traitorous mind painfully reminds him, and a flash of red rushes through his mind before he forcefully pushes it aside – Lance takes a breath a continues.

 

“Sonoa, why are you here? What brought you from the future?”

 

His questions are met with silence. Sonoa slowly, quietly, sets her sporkfull of food goo back onto her plate, her body seeming to fold in on itself in the process. Lance can immediately feel the panic and worry setting in. He had done something wrong. Again. She would hate him now, because he had made her think of whatever had hurt her. That must be it. How could he be such an idiot??

 

Lance quickly opens his mouth to apologize, but Sonoa’s voice beats him to the punch, and abruptly stops his words altogether.

 

“I came back to save the universe from the Galra.”

 

The silence that envelops the room is deafening. Lance can’t bring himself to look away from the alien girl in front of him, his eyes wide and jaw dropped open in shock from the words that had just left her lips. Her eyes were downcast, refusing to look at anyone else in the room. She had not moved since she had spoken, not even to blink.

 

From the corner of his eye, Lance sees Shiro move, leaning against the table on his metal arm, holding his head with the other. Pidge sucks in a breath across the table. Hunk and Allura go stock still, jaws hard and eyes wide. Coran lets his head drop for a moment before looking back to the young girl sitting beside Lance. His voice was quiet when he spoke, but it might have well been a shout for the impact it made against the heavy silence surrounding the group.

 

“What do you mean, my girl?” he asks, and Sonoa flinches. Immediately Lance places a hand on her shoulder and Coran moves to her side, both silent questions asking if she needs comfort. Sonoa quickly shakes her head almost unnoticeably, but nonetheless the two pull away, giving her space. She shakily takes a deep breath, and Lance can see the sadness, hurt, and grief in her eyes when she looks up once again.

 

There’s a pain in his chest seeing those feelings in her eyes – in a girl so young. He wasn’t much older then her, truthfully, and the thought brings an even more somber feeling to the moment. They were still just kids, going through these terrible situations they’ve been thrown into the best they could.

 

“Voltron had defeated Zarkon and his reign over the universe,” Sonoa begins once again, her eyes still refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. Her next words are mumbled and rushed, as if she’s trying to get them out of the way. “And I’m not going to tell you how, or any details. That could mess with the whole space time continuum more than I already have just by being here. But I had to come back…”

 

Her voice trails off, her blue eyes becoming misty with memories and tears alike. A pained expression flits across her face, and she winces before shaking her head and continuing.

 

“That’s not important. Voltron won the war, and for years….. There was peace. Things popped up here and there and Voltron dealt with them – nothing big, it was fine. But then today…... The Castle was attacked by rebel Galra soldiers and… And…..”

 

Sonoa’s hands fly to her mouth, muffling the sob that tries to escape. Her whole form trembles as the sound is brought from her throat and the tears that had been building up from before start spilling onto her cheeks. Lance’s chest constricts, as if his own heart was hurting simply because she was. He knows he should be more afraid for himself and his own future right now, logically; he didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to understand where Sonoa’s story ended. But Lance’s emotions didn’t care about logic.

 

Lance only hesitates for a second (he still had her dried blood on his armour after all) before he reaches forwards and wraps his arms around the girl sitting beside him, bringing her close to him. She tenses for a millisecond before turning fully towards him and sobbing into his chest plate, drawing herself closer as she clings to him, shaking the whole time. Lance just hugs her closer, as if that would somehow make all her pain go away. He only wishes it was that simple.

 

The others politely look away as Lance comforts the alien girl, and Lance is grateful. It was already kind of embarrassing how attached he had gotten to the younger girl in such a short amount of time. He didn’t need his teammates staring at him while he’s in his “protective brother” mode.

 

Gradually, Sonoa’s shaking stops, and then her tears. She pulls herself away from Lance and hesitantly meets his eyes. He gives her what is hopefully a reassuring smile, but he feels that it looks more sad than anything. She simply nods, giving him her own small smile, and Lance feels a wave of relief wash over him. At least he did some good.

 

Sonoa turns away, taking a deep breath before she continues her tale. This time her posture is straight, her face devoid of any of the pain from moments before. Her gaze is determined, her conviction to finish what she had started, whether that be her story, mission, or both, as plain as the small scales on her face.

 

“Galra rebels attacked the Castle of Lions out of nowhere. We didn’t expect them – couldn’t have.” Sonoa meets the eyes of each member of Voltron as she speaks, and Lance himself finds his gaze stuck to the girl as she finishes her recounting. “We tried to fight them off, but their numbers were something we hadn’t seen in years. The last thing I remember was Coran shoving me through that portal and…. I was the only one left alive.”

 

Lance’s stomach drops, even though the outcome was the same as he had thought it was going to be.

 

They had died.

 

They had failed, and died.

 

They _will_ fail.

 

Lance shakes his head at his thoughts.

 

No. They could change the future; they could _win_. That’s the whole reason Sonoa had come back. To fix their mistake.

 

His team members seem to be having the same thoughts, going by their expressions. Pidge seemed to be doing calculations in her head (Lance had seen it enough times to know what that face looked like), while Allura was clutching at her skirt so tightly her knuckles were going white.

 

“Sonoa, you said: _‘we’_. What do you mean by that?” Shiro asks suddenly, causing everyone’s attention to turn to him. Sonoa silently takes a breath, her shoulders falling quickly with the action. She was very expressive, Lance finds himself noting. Yet another thing that reminds him of his sister.

 

“I was training to be a paladin,” she says, then explains further. “I lived in the Castle and went on small missions with my team. I never actually met any of you in person, except for Coran. He was our trainer.”

 

At this she gives a sheepish smile to Coran, who had been silently staring at her in awe since she had first uttered his name.

 

“So…” Hunk starts, looking back and forth from Coran and Sonoa, “We’re training new paladins now?”

 

Sonoa nods, a small smile making its way onto her face.

 

“Wow….” Hunk mutters. He frowns, looking thoughtful. “We must be pretty old then…”

 

“Hunk!!” Lance gasps, hands immediately flailing to his chest in mock offense. “What did I say about the ‘O’ word??? Shiro is _sensitive_.”

 

Hunk gasps almost as dramatically as Lance (no one could beat his own dramatics after all), while Coran and Allura laugh quietly and Pidge full on _cackles_. Shiro simply rolls his eyes while a smile curves his mouth upwards slightly. Sonoa takes a moment, looking around at the other’s reactions to the tease after the severity of her finished tale. Slowly, quietly, her chuckles make their way into the room as well, turning quickly into loud, hearty laughter. Lance’s chest constricts once again at the bittersweet sound, but joins in the laughter, the familiar sound of his sister’s laugh filling his ears.

 

Another sound joins the voices in the room; a loud chime, something akin to a ringtone from a phone back on Earth. Lance’s stomach drops and twists and his heart gets stuck in his throat at the same time. He’d know that sound even from the vibrations it sends through the floor if he was deaf.

 

He meets the eyes of his team members around the room, along with the confused face of the alien girl beside him. He forces his easy smile onto his face, standing up and gesturing to the door for her.

 

“Well, looks like it’s time for you to meet the rest of the team, Sonny,” he says. Sonoa’s expression breaks for a split second to one of pain, but quickly changes into a smile. Lance doesn’t have any time to think about the small moment of whatever that was, instead he files the information away for later as Sonoa pushes her chair back and stands up beside him.

 

“Lead the way, Lance,” she says.

 

And so he does, chatting the whole way to the alien girl beside him, as he leads the team down once again to the docking bay.

 

The Blade of Marmora had arrived.


End file.
